three thousand and two hundred eighty feet below you
by SHSL Slacker
Summary: Things could - should - have been different. (MuraIchi, AU, twoshot. Agender Murasa/Trans Female Ichirin. For minamitsu.)
1. what the water gave me

**For minamitsu on AO3/unhappyrefrain on Tumblr. Agender Murasa; Trans Female Ichirin (though it's only touched upon in this chapter). Chapter title from Florence + the Machine - What the Water Gave Me.**

* * *

The ocean.

It's pretty big, Ichirin thinks to herself. It's big and wide and vast and beautiful. And it holds all manners of creatures, near the surface, but also down in the depths below.

I wonder if this ship will sink like the Titanic, she thinks. I wonder if I'll be able to get away with Byakuren and Grandpa Unzan and everyone else?

Either way, she wouldn't mind dying in the ocean. After all, it's so very beautiful, with the sunlight sparkling on its cool, crystal waves. Of course, it would hurt. And she would be crying, if she did start to drown or freeze. But when she's all dead and gone, maybe she can wander around the ocean and admire it from below.

* * *

They first meet when Ichirin fell asleep in the storage room.

When the monk wakes up and realizes _oh, goodness, where on Earth am I_, she reprimands herself for falling asleep in a storage room, of all places, and gets up to start looking around for the door. She remembers it's somewhere near a particular crate, but she can't see a thing in the darkness. It must be nighttime already, since most of the room was still partway visible when she had entered.

Then, a voice, "Do you have a ladle?"

Ichirin jolts - the voice seemed like it had come from behind her, but when she turns around, there's... there's a girl. No, not a girl, but... a boy? She can't tell in the dark, but the person looks neither male nor female. Androgynous. "S-Sorry?"

"Do you have a ladle?" They tilt their head slightly to the side, face blank. Ichirin fearfully notes the rather large anchor the person has on their back, seemingly held up by just a single hand. How were they doing that...? "Do you have a ladle? Do you?"

"I-I'm sorry. No, I don't think so," Ichirin replies, carefully and cautiously, before remembering an old legend Grandpa Unzan used to tell her when she was a child. _A ship phantom, the ghost of a person who died at sea... they'd ask for a ladle, and then..._ "N-No, wait! Actually, I think I do have one. Please just wait a moment."

The person doesn't respond, but then starts twirling the anchor they held around, somehow not managing to hit the floor or the ceiling, but smashing several crates and scattering their contents in the process. Seeing her chance, Ichirin takes a deep breath, mutters a quick sutra under her breath, and dives towards one of the items that had been in the box. The anchor _swoosh_es above her, tearing a part of her robe, but she grabs the item and holds it up to the person's face.

"Here! A ladle."

They blink. "Oh. So you do have one."

"That's what I said." The monk bows her head towards the ship phantom. "Here. Please take it."

They do, taking it in their hand and brushing against Ichirin's finger momentarily. The monk draws back almost immediately, alarmed at the freezing touch, but the ship phantom barely notices, looking the ladle over carefully, almost scrutinizingly. Then they look at its bottom - there's a hole there, very small, but big enough to at least be noticeable. It's a warm brown color, with a few scratches from where their anchor had hit it. Ichirin fidgets in front of them, looking uncomfortable.

"Okay." The ship phantom nods. "You're safe."

Ichirin breathes out a heavy, relieved sigh. "Th... Thank you, miss ship phantom-"

"Don't call me _miss_," the ship phantom growls, sounding almost feral, and their face is in front of Ichirin's in a blink. "I'm not a girl. I'm a _captain_."

"My apologies, captain ship phantom!" The monk squeaks, feeling rather faint in the head. _I think I need to lie down and forget this ever happened..._ "I didn't... know, that is..." Goodness, she should have known better. After all, she had faced the same problem years ago with her parents...

The ship phantom glares at her for a little while longer, long enough for Ichirin to start breathing slower, until the glare settles back into an indifferent gaze as they draw away, ever carefully. "Okay."

"Okay." With great difficulty, Ichirin manages a smile, and the ship phantom suddenly flinches. "Is something wrong?"

"You're too _bright_," they say, and if Ichirin doesn't know better, she'd say the ship phantom had _whined_. "I can't handle it. My eyes hurt now."

_All I'd done was smile..._ "Is that a compliment? Thank you... captain."

The ship phantom turns around, still holding the ladle and twirling her anchor around. Ichirin backs away from it as subtly as she can. "Okay. I'm going."

That had been... rather frightening, but at least it's over now. "Goodbye, captain ship phantom. Have... a nice day?"

Then they disappear, in the briefest of flashes. For a moment, Ichirin can identify short, ruffled black hair and a sailor's uniform - before she's left alone in the storage room once again.

* * *

The second time is when it's late at night, and Ichirin is on the deck.

It's cold out, but the monk can barely notice it. She's still thinking about the ship phantom, how she'd never gotten their name, and how they had told her she's... bright. She still can't understand most of it, and why they had said so, but it makes her feel a little happy inside, and so she supposes the reason _why_ isn't so important.

A wave of water splashes against the ship. Ichirin sighs, closing her eyes and starts softly murmuring sutras, content to be out here. Even if it is cold and freezing and she's very much alone...

"It's you."

... Well, perhaps not alone, anymore.

The monk's eyes snap open, the deadpan voice all too familiar to her ears. It had been a day or two since they had met, and now... yes. She could see the ship phantom clearly now. They were sitting on the railing, swinging their legs like a child. Dressed in a white sailor uniform, outlined with green, and short black hair that looked almost fluffy from a distance... they looked so much younger than how they acted. They were also dripping wet with saltwater, forming a puddle on the floor, but they didn't seem to notice or care at all. And, along with the anchor they carried, there was...

"C... Captain ship phantom? It's you again." Best to start with a polite greeting. Ichirin swallows nervously, slowly straightening to stand up from her chair. The ladle she had given the phantom is still clutched in their free hand.

They nod. "I couldn't sink this ship even if I wanted to. You gave me this ladle, after all." They swing it around, splashing water everywhere, but not even close enough to the amount of water Ichirin had heard over gossip and rumors. "It's kind of better than the one the other sailor gave me. Maybe I should make it my regular one."

Ichirin just nods, too scared to say anything else. What if I make her angry again, and she'll go right ahead and sink the ship? That wouldn't be nice, not at all. Something polite... something polite... "Ah, I'm afraid I never got your name. Please call me Ichirin Kumoi." She bows lowly, trying not to make eye contact with the ship phantom again.

She straightens, just in time to meet their aloof, yet curious, gaze. "I've never had someone ask for my name before."

"W-Well... I'm different, then," Ichirin says. Had that been disrespectful? The wrong thing to say?

"Minamitsu Murasa," the ship phantom says, almost disinterestedly. "is my name. Though, it probably won't be of use to you."

"And... why not?"

"We won't be meeting after this."

That had been rather blunt. She supposes it's true, though - a ship phantom wouldn't revisit a ship they wouldn't be able to sink. But then, why had they returned now? "Then, you being here..."

"I thought there was something unnaturally bright up here," Murasa mumbles. "Turns out it's just you. Should've expected it."

Ichirin pauses - they'd said it again. Bright. Is she really as bright as the phantom claims her to be? It's a nice compliment, and her other friends had told her she's a pleasant person, but this was coming from a ship phantom who she knew for about thirty minutes... "Thank you?" She manages a polite, if nervous, smile.

Murasa blinks, then takes a step backward. They tip the ladle they hold upside-down, splashing some more water on the deck. "I'm gonna go."

Oh. Well, then. Is that red tinting the phantom's cheeks? Ichirin feels a smile creeping up her face - so Murasa really is still a little like a teen. "Goodbye, then, Captain Murasa. It was nice meeting you." The smile she gives comes a little easier, now, and it's much wider. Why is she feeling so at home with a _ship phantom?_

Murasa nods, their expression back to an apathetic one. Then they fall over backwards, on their spot atop the railing, and fall into the ocean.

After a beat or two, Ichirin rushes to peer down at the inky depths of the sea. She hadn't even heard a splash.

* * *

The third, and final, time they meet, is when the ship has landed.

Ichirin stays behind a little, just so she can go up the deck once more, lean on the railing, and admire the sights the ocean has to give her. Even in the bustling docks of the city, she can still make out the twinkling stars in the night, and the waves on the ocean as they dance across the whistling breeze. A wind tickles her cheek, blows the wavy purple curls that had escaped from underneath her headdress, and the scent of saltwater calms her, if only by a little.

The ship phantom, she remembers. Captain Minamitsu Murasa. Their anchor and ladle and unwavering expression. How they had visited her, not once, but twice. And her supposed brightness.

If there's anything Ichirin can see in Murasa, it's their straightforward personality. It's almost endearing, though she knows that one wrong move and she'd probably be in the bottom of the ocean. Right. Do not underestimate ship phantoms. And their black hair really _does_ look fluffy, fluffy enough that Ichirin would want to step right over and feel it through her fingers.

I feel like a necrophiliac, she thinks.

A splash of water. Surprised, she looks behind her, but she's the only one on the deck. Everyone else is in their cabins, fixing their belongings and chatting with acquaintances throughout the cruise. So then, there'd probably only be one person who would be able to be here, at this sort of time...

"Captain Murasa?"

Another _splish_ \- and the black-haired phantom is there once more, just next to Ichirin, sitting on the railing in their previous position. Their appearance had been so sudden that Ichirin hadn't even seen them come up from the water. Murasa nods then, her sailor cap bobbing slightly. "Kumoi."

"Call me Ichirin, please."

"Ichirin, then. I'm here again."

"That you are." The monk smiles, and Murasa, who had been staring at her face, looks away near immediately. "Is there something wrong?"

"I told you. You're too bright for me to handle." Murasa pauses, but then continues, in a lower tone. "Underwater, there's nothing for me to look at except the darkness. Three thousand and two hundred eighty feet below the ocean surface... that's where light no longer penetrates the water. It's also right where I live and float along. If there isn't a ship above me, then I can't go any higher."

"I-I... see." They'd just gone on like that... Ichirin hadn't even asked. Well, she isn't complaining. "Is it lonely down there?"

"Yes." Murasa turns to look back at the monk, sea-green eyes deep and dark, just like how they'd described the ocean. "This is the first time in a while I've been able to talk to someone that isn't an apology. It feels strange."

"Strange... is that bad?"

"No. Not really." Then the phantom sighs. "Kumoi... Ichirin. Can you get off the ship?"

"S... Sorry?"

"Get off the ship."

"Um... why?"

"So I can sink it."

"W-What?!" That had caught her off-guard. Then again, she _had_ thought of the captain's bluntness as 'endearing'... perhaps that hadn't been quite the right thing to describe it as. Maybe something like 'unnatural', but not technically something bad. "But I thought..."

"I only said you alone were safe, right? The moment you get off this ship, it's mine to sink." They tilt their head to the side, twirling their ladle. Water splashes onto the deck once more. "If I were you, I'd get off right away. Don't bother trying to save your friends and family. Stay behind until the last passenger is out the ship? Bad move. I'll sink it right away, then, if you try to do that. The protection cast over you by my curse will only last for as long as I want it to. And I'd hate to drown the person who gave me such a nice ladle."

Ichirin trembles - she had been right. It had been a horrible move to try and befriend - even _interact _with - a ship phantom. "But, my... my grandfather, and Miss Byakuren..."

Murasa pauses, before peering closer into the monk's eyes. Ichirin takes a deep breath, before slowly letting it back out. Just as she's about to declare that she'd rather stay here than let innocent people die for her, the ship phantom says, "You have ten minutes."

Then the sailor falls backwards, and this time, they land with a splash. Ichirin stands there, motionless, for another few seconds, before she takes off in a dash towards her cabin room.

* * *

The moment Ichirin stumbles out of the ship, pushing Nue in front of her, and lands on the docks, a great shuddering fills the ship. A roaring wave of water crashes onto the deck, spilling out of what looks like a tiny figure just above the ship, hovering steadily with an anchor on their back. Water seeps in everywhere; screams of the passengers too slow to arrive outside fill the air; and the great cruise ship finally sinks into the depths of the ocean, dragging drowning people along with it.

The monk pants heavily - it had taken her three minutes to convince most of her crew, four minutes to get them outside as fast as she could, which left her only three minutes to get the remaining passengers outside. She hadn't been fast enough.

"The ship phantom you speak of," Byakuren whispers, her voice light, and yet heavy at the same time somehow. Ichirin isn't sure how she manages it. "Minamitsu Murasa..."

"That was them," Ichirin says, with a sigh.

Somehow... the monk isn't sure what to think of the phantom anymore.

* * *

Another ship, another wreck. You smile, lick your lips, savor the taste of saltwater on them. It's glorious.

The captain trembles before you, his eyes wide as he stammers a plead to let him live. It's almost laughable. In fact, you _do_ laugh - cackle, more of, as you upturn your ladle and bring forth a wave of water that submerges the entire room with unbelievable speed. The captain lets out a strangled cry as he tries to swim and reach the surface, but no, there _is_ no surface. He bubbles, makes incoherent noises, then drifts back down, motionless.

The seawater no longer invades your lungs as it used to when you were still new to the whole concept of being a phantom. In fact, now that you're well accustomed to it, you all but welcome it - the feeling is exhilarating, much like how drowning others and sinking ships is basically your lifeblood.

You drift out of the cabin, giggling to yourself as you kick open the cabin door and let the water rush out eagerly. The water is your best, best, bestest friend - it's all you've ever wanted. How come you've never introduced yourself to the water properly before, when you were still alive? It seems like such a long time ago, now that you think about it.

On the deck, there's still one sailor left alive, crawling pathetically as he tries to hide away from you. What a fool!, you want to shout. What a fool to think that he can escape from me! You upturn your ladle once more, giggling and laughing as the water swirls around you almost protectively, curving and dancing and lashing everywhere. It's beautiful, but deadly. Just like you, you want to think.

The sailor's eyes widen, and his mouth opens. "Th-That ladle..."

"Oh?" You take a look at the weapon you've used to drown thousands of people over the years, with its warm brown color and the small opening at the bottom. There are still scratches on its handle, but you've long ago grown to love the etches on its wood. "Yes... this is my ladle. My beloved ladle." You slam your anchor on the ship, feeling it crack against the mighty item's weight. "My ladle... given to me by a guard..."

"G... G... Guard?" The sailor sputters. It's at this moment you've decided he's heard too much, as you narrow your eyes and your maniacal grin returns. He starts crawling away as fast as he can, too dim-witted to try to stand up. Granted, it wouldn't be very effective to try running on the slippery deck.

"Sorry. But we can be good friends down below, in the ocean I live in." You tilt your head, and with a flick of your wrist, send a raging storm straight at him. His mouth opens in a silent scream, before he is covered in the rage of the whirling typhoon. A wave of water roars behind you, covering the entire ship with saltwater and pure, absolute, death.

You emerge from the wreckage, before slipping back down into the ocean's depths. You grip the ladle the strange, too-bright monk gave you so long ago tightly in your hand, then close your eyes.

You'll never see her brightness again. Somehow, you think, that will be fine. If ever there will be a next time, she will be on a ship again, and you will not be asking for a ladle.

(You do not want to be the one responsible for extinguishing her brightness.)

* * *

**Agender Murasa is Best Murasa.**

_**Slacker, 3/25/15**_


	2. the call

**Prequel. Title from Regina Spektor - The Call. TW: drowning, gender dysphoria, child abuse. Also a little more clearance about their genders.**

* * *

"Mama, mama-"

The door bursts open. A flash of blue comes tumbling in, a smile plastered on their little face. A tall woman turns around, her headdress covering most of her face. "Ichirin?"

"Mama, I made a new friend today," Ichirin says, eyes wide in excitement as they look up at the woman.

"Really? And who is he, then?"

Much to the woman's surprise, Ichirin frowns - and Ichirin doesn't frown very much. "They're not a boy, mama."

"'They'? How many friends did you make?"

"Just one, mama! But they're not a boy or a girl! They're a _captain_, y'see?"

Ichirin's mother frowns, but shakes her head. "Please don't talk to that person again, son. You can only be one gender, not both or none."

And that's when Ichirin hunches down, their eyes flickering to their feet. "I'm a girl, mama, I'm sure of it already-"

"You are a _boy_, my _son_," the woman enunciates as clearly as she can, bending down to face Ichirin on eye level, "and there is no changing that. You are a boy, you understand?"

Ichirin's breath hitches, and their shoulders shake, and their hands curl up into fists. But they nod and say "yes, I understand", and oh, how it hurts for them. Their mother nods and straightens, before heading back into her room.

Ichirin stands for a little while longer, trembling, shivering, before scrambling to hide in their own bedroom. They stare at themselves in the mirror, furiously wiping away their tear tracks and rubbing at their puffy red eyes, and says, "I am not... not..."

They take a deep breath.

"I am not a g-g-_girl_."

Their chest burns.

* * *

The next morning, as soon as their mother takes her eyes off of them, Ichirin slips away and rushes towards the nearby beach. The rocks there are sharp, jagged, and the waves are always just narrowly missing crashing against them, but it's always been a soothing place for them, even more so once they discover their new friend.

Ichirin almost slips several times on the sand, somehow, but they eventually make it to the area they're sure they had gone the other day to see their new friend. It takes them a while and a lot of patience, but the waves roll up after some time to reveal a child, similar to them in appearance, sitting on a piece of driftwood and carrying around an anchor that's twice (or thrice) their size and somehow not even sinking.

Ichirin doesn't question it, though - the captain is their friend and that's all that matters, right? "Captain Murasa! Hello."

Murasa nods. They're a silent one, they notice. "Ichirin."

"I was wondering," Ichirin begins, dipping their feet in the water and kicking at the water halfheartedly. "My mama says I'm a boy, and everyone _else_ says I'm a b-boy, too, but. Umm. What do you think? I don't feel like a boy. I wanna say I'm a girl, but mama doesn't allow it."

The child captain pauses. They lie down on their stomach on the driftwood, swirling around at the water with their finger slowly. "I don't know. You can be whatever you want, right? You can be a girl if you want to. Or you can be a boy if you want to, too, but you don't look like you do. So. Be a girl, or something."

Smiling lightly, though already wiping a little at their eyes, Ichirin nods. "Okay. Thank you, Captain Murasa!"

"Bright."

"Ah, sorry." A pause. "My mama said I shouldn't talk to you anymore 'cause we should only have one gender, not both or none."

As they expected, Murasa rears up almost immediatly, almost like raising their shackles. The finger swirling in the water rapidly speeds up, creating a miniature whirlpool around them almost immediately. The menacing roar of the waves, though faint, echoes in the quiet beach. What's most frightening is the glare in Murasa's face - a deadly gaze, emanating a vicious aura and threatening to put the anchor with them to good use.

"I am a _captain_," Murasa says with a tone of finality. "I'm not a boy or a girl or an anything. I'm a captain and that's it."

"I think so too," Ichirin agrees, feeling something tug at their chest. It's envy, they realize; envy towards the child captain for having so much confidence in their self-identity. "I wish I could... be as cool as you," they whisper, clutching at their heart. "Whenever my mama says I'm a boy, it hurts a lot here. Why..."

The whirlpool dies down, and the roar of the waves fade away. Ichirin curls up into a fetal position, sniffling as they try to last as long as they can without spilling their tears, before a cold, damp hand settles on their shoulder. They look up, blinking back unshed tears, into the sea-green eyes of Murasa as the child captain squeezes Ichirin's shoulder reassuringly. Though Murasa looks a tad uncomfortable, Ichirin just about welcomes the freezing cold touch, grasping at the child captain's arm and clinging onto them as if they were their lifeline.

Murasa flinches. "I'm sorry," they offer hesitantly. "Now you're all dark. Won't you smile? The brightness is better than this, right?"

Ichirin forces out a weak laugh. They don't really get what Murasa's talking about, but the way they say it is really cute. "Sorry. And thanks," they say, before managing a strained smile. "Is this better, Captain Murasa?"

"No, no. Look, it's always brighter if you do it nicely, like this." They reach out from their spot on the water, lifting Ichirin's face up to make a deformed smile. It sends Ichirin into giggles, and that's Murasa's time to smile. "See? Now it's... ow. Now it's bright."

"Thank you, Captain Murasa," Ichirin says, flashing one of their larger smiles. Murasa ducks down, face tinted red, the water swirling around her and splashing Ichirin lightly.

* * *

They would have talked for longer, but Murasa insists they leave once the first few other visitors start trickling in, and Ichirin has to go leave and return to the house before their mother finds out they're missing. They flash Murasa one last smile and laugh at the child captain as they wince at the supposed 'brightness', before they're swallowed up by a small wave. Ichirin leaves as soon as only the driftwood, halved in two, remains in the same spot as Murasa had been seconds before.

It's a relaxing routine - every morning, Ichirin would visit, and talk to Murasa, who'd always show up with a swirl of the waves. It intrigued Ichirin how the child captain could do that, but they'd never ask, too frightened at the prospect of angering them. In any case, it doesn't scare them too much, and it doesn't seem to be harmful, so Ichirin lets it go. It won't hurt them in any way, right?

One day, it does.

An early Sunday morning. Ichirin fixes themselves up, heads out to visit Murasa once again, but is greeted by an unlikely sight.

Instead of the empty sea as always, Murasa is already there, but dressed differently and on the sand instead of floating on the water. They're in a light blue dress, with a hazy and distorted figure standing beside them, like a tall, gangly man. The man firmly holds Murasa's hand, who looks up at him confusedly. The man starts saying a few words, voice too soft for Ichirin to hear from the other side of the beach, and Murasa looks disconcerted. A few more words are exchanged, and then;

"_I am not a girl!_"

The water in the beach swirls about rapidly, beating against the shore and washing up inches away from Ichirin's bare feet.

The man starts shouting, too, but quieter than Murasa, and so Ichirin creeps closer, curiosity getting the better of them. Then suddenly, the scene changes, seemingly warping and twisting in on itself, before normalizing to just Murasa, this time in their regular outfit, walking straight off the deck of a ship and falling into the murky depths of the ocean below. Ichirin screams, then remembers that Murasa doesn't get hurt by the water, and that they'll just rise back up and then they can talk again. Right?

The same man from before, accompanied by a few more sailors, race onto the deck and start yelling at the water. Murasa doesn't come back up, and the bubbles fade away.

Ichirin shrieks and falls to their knees, shivering and holding back tears of fright. What had just happened? Had Murasa just... drowned? Had they just drowned? No, that couldn't be it. Murasa _lives_ in the water, so there could be no way they could just drown like that. Right? _Right?_

"Minamitsu!" Ichirin cries, scrambling to get over to the scene. It disappears into thin air, only a lazy white mist floating where it had been, but Ichirin could care less. They crawl over to where they meet each other every morning, and Ichirin screams out _Minamitsu_ over and over, eyes alternating between alarmingly wide and shut tight.

Murasa doesn't come until Ichirin's voice has disappeared and their throat has gone hoarse. Only when they're crumpled on the ground, shaking in their curled-up form, does Murasa peek out from underwater, their eyes just barely visible from below.

"Ichirin?"

Jolting upwards, Ichirin immediately jumps into the water and hugs Murasa with all the strength they can muster. They don't care when Murasa flinches away, or when their skin is dead-cold, or when the water starts lapping at their waist. The fact that Murasa is _here_, that Murasa is _alive_, is the only thing that matters.

Murasa doesn't react at first, but does start stroking Ichirin's hair, murmuring softly. Ichirin sniffles, trying to hold back the rest of their tears, before stepping back slightly back onto the shore. They're still holding on to the child captain loosely, and find that they don't care. If anything, their cold touch is comforting. It helps prove that Murasa is still _here_ and not... gone.

"... So you saw that?" Murasa whispers, and Ichirin whimpers. They nod. A sigh escapes Murasa's lips. "Oh. Guess you know I'm kinda... dead."

Dead.

The word rings in the quiet beach, the only sound being the calling of seagulls and the water washing up on the shore. Ichirin stands, stock-still, before they start trembling and looking up at Murasa with eyes the size of dinner plates.

"N... No," they say. "That... That can't be, right? You're right here, a-and I'm holding you..." Their arms drop to their sides, shivering like the rest of their body. "Y-You're..."

"I'm a ship phantom," Murasa says, picking at the edge of the driftwood they sit on. "I sink ships. Any ship that passes by. They never have a ladle." They look up at Ichirin's tearstained face, who still stays, frightened eyes trained on the child captain. Murasa lets out a tired breath, feeling their energy drain away. "'M sorry. Never told you. Do you... hate me?"

Ichirin takes a moment to recover, their breath still coming out erratically. The truth _hurts_. What they had seen... had happened, at some point at Murasa's life? The same Murasa who talked to them and laughed with them and made them smile? The same Murasa who insists they're not a boy or a girl or anything but a _captain?_

Murasa's words from the scene echo in their mind. _I am not a girl._

And that's when they _know_.

"I'm sorry," Ichirin wails. "I'm sorry I never knew. Minamitsu."

They throw themselves at Murasa once again and cling to their freezing body, inhaling the fresh scent of saltwater. Ichirin cries and though they don't know why, they just _know_, Murasa doesn't deserve being dead, doesn't deserve being a murderer, doesn't deserve carrying their anchor everywhere to remind them of their existence. Doesn't deserve the ocean.

"It's okay," Murasa murmurs, and Ichirin only tightens their grip.

* * *

"Where have you been, young man?" Ichirin's mother snaps.

_Oh no,_ Ichirin thinks, right before the sharp crack of a whip flashes in their ears. Ichirin whimpers, holds their breath, and crouches into a small position as the black leather weapon crashes onto their back.

* * *

It is years later when Ichirin sees Murasa again. The monk remembers the scent of salt and the icy touch. The captain remembers the brightness, and the smile.

It is when they are in a dark, dank storage room, and with Murasa's question hanging in the air;

"Do you have a ladle?"

* * *

**Gender-neutral pronouns are cool. Use them.**

_**Slacker, 3/25/15**_


End file.
